


watch the sunrise to fill our souls up

by cerie



Category: Sanctuary (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She gets under his skin and in his head like nobody else he’s ever met and he’s so screwed because it can’t be anything more than it is.  It has to be quiet.  It really, really doesn’t even need to exist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch the sunrise to fill our souls up

**Author's Note:**

> This is...depraved and filthy. Pure porn. I don't know if that's a warning, per se, but yeaaah. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

Robin knows that they want Amanda on because A) she’s working her tail off and highly visible and B) they get on like a house on fire. Robin doesn’t want to have Amanda on because he’s tried to be halfway decent at co-hosting and he knows that he’ll just descend into madness with her there but Fiona insists and he isn’t saying no. He just hopes he can (mostly) keep it in his pants and keep from making a scene.

He hasn’t seen her in a few weeks but the great thing about he and Amanda is that they tend to pick up right where they left off. It could be months (and has been before) and it’s like they’d just seen each other the day before. Amanda’s a little early and has some time in her dressing room before they actually have to film; Robin finds he’s wound up with entirely too much energy and decides he’s just going to go pester her.

He is not, however, prepared for the skirt. It’s kind of a douchebag thing to completely lose his shit over a woman in a short skirt (she’s wearing it for her, not necessarily so he can ogle her) but it’s Amanda and he feels like he gets a pass to leer at her since it’s pretty fucking obvious she does this shit to screw with him. She gets under his skin and in his head like nobody else he’s ever met and he’s so screwed because it can’t be anything more than it is. It has to be quiet. It really, really doesn’t even need to exist.

And yet.

“Did you forget to get dressed this morning before you left the house?” Robin asks, brushing two fingers along the inside of Amanda’s thigh when she tries to play innocent. He knows he’s got her number because she blushes and looks like she’s concentrating very hard on not smiling - these are all tell-tale signs that he’s caught her in the act. 

“Ass,” Amanda says, wrinkling her nose a bit. “It’s just a skirt, Robin. It’s not like I don’t wear skirts all the time. Magnus wore skirts. You’ve been in close proximity to my skirts before.” Robin thinks she’s protesting a little too much and he decides to back off for a moment, settling on a sofa opposite her makeup mirror. Amanda starts fiddling with her hair, ostensibly ignoring him, but he can see the way her eyes find his in the mirror. Busted.

“I missed you. It’s been a little while.” It’s only been a few weeks but Robin’s like a junkie who hasn’t had a hit and now his stash is sitting right in front of him. It’s hard to keep hands off and he’s not even really trying, except that he knows he ought to because he doesn’t want to make a scene and be completely unable to work ever again.

“Mmhmm. Too many people around. Too busy,” Amanda explains, her hands busy fluffing up a piece of hair that’s already perfectly styled and doesn’t need anything else. She’s nervous too. That, strangely, puts him a little more at ease. She finishes and turns back around but this time her knees part slightly and the skirt inches up even more, revealing several inches of creamy, pale skin. 

“We’ve got a little time,” Robin says softly, eyes following the line of her thigh until he can’t see anything else because of the skirt. Amanda makes a soft noise that sounds vaguely like a yes and her thighs go even wider, revealing a scrap of lace that is the only thing between him and bliss. He half-grins at her, cocksure and confident.

“Bet we could fuck and get out there before anyone notices.” Amanda arches a brow but nods once, slipping off her panties and dropping them in Robin’s hand before straddling his lap. He’s glad he’s not wearing jeans today because he feels her, hot and wet, as she grinds down on his lap before kissing him. Kissing Amanda is always just this side of pornographic because she’s a fucking expert at it, teeth gently catching his lower lip and tongue sliding against his and body writhing like some kind of professional belly dancer. Yup. It’s triple X and his body is always shameless in its response to her.

Their hands both go for his belt at the same time, fingers clumsily pushing at one another in order to get him undressed _faster_ and remove all the barriers. Robin finally decides to let Amanda at it and he gets under her top instead. He wishes he could get to her bare skin but he doesn’t want to waste the time to dress her again; instead, he brushes his thumbs against her nipples and tease them to hard little peaks through the lace of her bra. He feels a quick rush of cold air when Amanda finally gets his pants and boxers down and then all he feels is wet, hot heat sliding on his cock.

Yeah. No condom. He hasn’t really been with anyone other than her in a while and she has her end taken care of but it’s probably going to be messy later on. Robin really doesn’t give a fuck because he’s completely regressed down the evolutionary ladder. He hikes her skirt up around her waist just to make sure there’s no mishaps and fucks her, hard as he can manage, and gets rewarded with a soft curse and a swift breath when he hits just the right spot. They’ve been together enough times by now that he gets it right more often than not; while Robin likes the excitement of being with someone new, he likes the comfort of knowing someone in and out even better.

He intends to pull out but he doesn’t get a chance. Amanda’s clamped down tight on him and he thrusts one last time, moaning quietly as comes. At least neither of them screamed and blew the cover of professionalism they’ve been working so hard to maintain. Amanda gathers her skirt up in her hands carefully and holds it up as she shifts off him; Robin knows he’s a teenage boy about these things but _God_ it’s satisfying to see her face relaxed and her pupils wide from pleasure and, yeah, his come glistening on her thigh. Yup. Teenage boy. He never professed to be the mature one.

Amanda reaches back behind her for a tissue to clean things up and Robin laughs and shakes his head. He pushes her to sit back down in her chair, thighs wide, and kneels between them. He knows some guys (probably most) have a problem with this but he doesn’t give a fuck when it’s _Amanda_ and she’s messy because of him. Nope. Not at all. He cups her hips in his hands and pulls her close, sealing his mouth over her cunt and licking her clean. It’s different than she normally tastes but, again, it’s because of him and it’s still fucking hot. It’s even hotter when he starts sucking at her clit and her hand winds in his hair and pulls; the sharp pain just spurs him to go a little faster. When she comes, she rocks her hips against his face and Robin swears that she’s everywhere and that there’s nothing else in the world other than Amanda. He’s also reasonably sure there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. He keeps licking until her fingers relax and pet his hair instead of grip it and her thighs slide off his shoulders. He looks up, grinning wide.

“Gotta clean me up now,” he says, cheeky, and Amanda rolls her eyes. He doesn’t know if she’ll go for it. While he’s not squeamish about this stuff, she might be, and he’s perfectly fine about that. 

“Come _here_ , you dork,” she insists, and they end up standing so Amanda can wrap her arms around him and kiss him deeply. They’re both kind of a mess when they pull away but it’s nothing that isn’t easily fixed by five minutes of tissues and makeup (and jeans for Robin, since his slacks are soaking wet now) and when they head back down the hall to shoot, it’s all they can do to keep a straight face.

They manage but it’s all an act.


End file.
